


hand in yours, please

by Ann1215



Series: skts fluff week 2021 [5]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Fluff, M/M, Sakusa Kiyoomi is a Great Dad, Single Parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:48:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29548863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ann1215/pseuds/Ann1215
Summary: Between a mix-up at the gym, an accident enroute to his daughter’s school and the fact that this is only his first week back in Tokyo after having lived in Kyoto for the past eight years, Kiyoomi is late for perhaps the first time ever and he might be panicking just a little bit.***In which Sakusa Kiyoomi and Miya Atsumu have entered their forties and life has brought them to interesting places, but it doesn't mean they can't have second first impressions.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Series: skts fluff week 2021 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2160846
Comments: 5
Kudos: 110
Collections: SakuAtsu Fluff Week 2021, haikyu!! single parent aus





	hand in yours, please

**Author's Note:**

> Day 6 of skts fluff week  
> Tier 2: Single Parent AU
> 
> this was more sakusa-family-centric than I had intended because single dad sakusa feels just took over. rated T for a single 'fuck'.

After seven years of mildly successful parenting, Kiyoomi would think he’d gotten better at managing this shit.

Never mind that he's forty years old, and he should already be  _ on top _ of this shit.

But between a mix-up at the gym, an accident enroute to his daughter’s school and the fact that this is only his first week back in Tokyo after having lived in Kyoto for the past eight years, Kiyoomi is late for perhaps  _ the first time ever _ and he might be panicking just a little bit.

_ What if she’s upset? What if she’s crying right now and Kiyoomi isn’t there to comfort her? _

_ What if she thinks he’s  _ **_abandoned_ ** _ her? _

He’s not usually prone to thoughts like these, but they creep in once in a while, and the traffic moving at a snail’s space is a fertile ground for panic to build upon itself; usually, his daughter or her mother would be the one to help him pull himself out of them, but Maya is in Kyoto, doing a presentation on 18th century pottery at this very moment, and the reason Aiko isn’t here right now is because he’s  _ late. _

“Fuck,” he mutters. At least Aiko’s not here to scold him for it.

Finally, the lanes start to clear up in the next half an hour, and he’s doing his best to keep to the speed limit while driving as fast as he can, grimacing at the thought of having to learn how to drive around in the city again.

There’s no room to complain though, when he was the one that had agreed to Motoya’s proposal of co-owning a fitness centre franchise after Kiyoomi’s contract with his former workplace had ended and he was looking for something similar, but would still fit his schedule in raising his daughter with as much attention as he can give her.

(Looking back, his childhood wasn’t the worst, but he’d always wondered what it would have been like to grow up with something more than just a lone breakfast and dinner on the table, accompanied by a note from his parents instead of their presence.)

His musings serve to temper some of his panic, but relief still floods him when he turns into the road leading to Aiko’s school. He parks the car more haphazardly than he probably should, but it doesn’t matter because he’s  _ late _ and he’s unashamedly sprinting through the gates, the ones he’d calmly walked through just that morning, hand in hand with his daughter and telling her a story about Motoya’s ice-cream mishap yesterday.

Aiko spots him before he sees her, a shrill “Papa!” causing him to stop in his harried footsteps.

She’s waving almost manically at him—the reprieve lasts only seconds, because she wiggles her small body, and before he could even tell her to stay put, she leaps down the last few steps of the stairs in front of her school building, nearly giving him a heart attack when she stumbles her landing slightly.

(God, this child is going to send him to an early grave.)

He jogs over to her, while she’s the one sprinting towards him now, barrelling straight into his legs and hugging them tight as she yells, “Yer here, Papa!”

“I am,” Kiyoomi reassures her, squatting down when she lets go of him to meet her eye to eye. “Sorry for not being here on time, Aiko.”

She shakes her head, hands gripping her backpack, and Kiyoomi notices how unruly her hair is looking from the humidity and her own rambunctiousness. “‘S okay,” she replies, and lifts up the soft volleyball charm Motoya had gifted her. “Vabo-chan was w’me! And, and Ryuuko was here too, but she went home w’ her mama already.” Kiyoomi vaguely recognises the name as Aiko’s seatmate, and nods along.

“Ready to go home too, then?”

Aiko nods, grinning and showing off the gap in her front teeth, and Kiyoomi smiles back as he straightens up. He’s not sure what he’s done in a past life to deserve a kid as easy-going as Aiko, considering her somewhat unique upbringing, but he’s never going to stop being grateful about it. “Hand please, Papa,” she tells him, expectantly holding out her tiny one, and Kiyoomi wraps his hand around hers carefully, before they start walking.

He listens to her recount to him about school; it’s only her third day and he’s unspeakably glad to hear her seemingly adjusting well—she talks about sharing her chocopie with Ryuuko during lunch, and how the teacher had complimented her for getting a tough history question right (he reminds himself to tell Maya about that), but then she trails off just as they reach his car.

Kiyoomi gets her into the backseat, squatting down outside to fix her hair until they’re in two semi-decent pigtails, letting her find the words she needs as he goes to buckle himself in.

They’re about a block away from the school before Aiko announces, "We don't have volleyball in  _ taiku _ here, Papa."

Uh oh.

He glances at her in the rearview mirror, taking in how her bottom lip is jutting out, the frown pulling at her brows. It's unfairly adorable, and he has to stop himself from cooing at her. Instead, he starts racking his mind for solutions to the very real problem at hand.

"Well, maybe we can start looking for a volleyball club near our apartment?"

But at the mention of one, Aiko perks up unexpectedly. She reaches for her backpack, rummaging inside before producing a crumpled looking flyer. "Oh yeah! I asked  _ sensei _ where I c'n play volleyball here 'n she gave me this!" she waves it at him, and he takes a quick glance at it before focusing on the road again, but it's enough to tell him that it's likely about a neighbourhood volleyball association.

"You… Just asked?"

In the mirror, Aiko nods empathetically. "Papa and Mama always said I gotta ask fer help if I need it," she replies, sounding wise beyond her seven years of age and nearly bowling Kiyoomi over with how much she learns every single day. And then she adds, "So since I was good at askin' fer help, does this mean I c'n get ice-cream?"

* * *

Kiyoomi does end up getting both of them ice-cream, but he makes Aiko promise not to tell her mother, unless she explicitly asks.

That very Saturday, he takes his daughter to the weekend session held by the association; they had after-school sessions as well, but Kiyoomi figures it would be best to ease Aiko into another new surrounding, despite her apparent love for volleyball, not unlike his own from so many years ago, still burning brightly now.

He meets with one of the organisers when he drops off Aiko, and subjects the poor man to way too many questions, fiddling with his glasses and his cap every once in a while, hoping he doesn't get recognised, but he wants to know as much as possible what he can expect for Aiko.

She'd been so excited for the opportunity to play volleyball again, and he doesn't want  _ anything _ to disappoint her—never mind the fact that he knows how impossible that is.

He needn't have worried, though.

When he picks Aiko up, just five minutes after her session ends (God, he really needs to talk to Motoya about fixing his PT appointments), she's absolutely glowing. Her words trip over themselves as she chatters on excitedly, flushed from exertion, head bouncing as she reenacts the new moves she learns as best as she can while strapped to the seat. 

Her nose wrinkles slightly though, when she mentions how some of the kids had looked at her weirdly when she'd insisted on washing her hands before and after playing volleyball. It breaks Kiyoomi's heart to hear it, but when he asks her if they'd said anything, she shakes her head and tells him, "Don't mind, Papa! I told 'em they'd get germs if they didn't do it w'me so we all washed hands together!"

His baby girl, aspiring hygiene prophetess striking terror into her fellow peers' hearts.

"Glad you're having a good time," he says after a moment.

She beams at him from the backseat. "Mmhmm! And Coach Atsu-san also had some o' my hand sanitizer! He's the one that taught me how ta, uh, spike, and it was so  _ gwah!" _

Kiyoomi spares a second to wonder how long it would take until Aiko loses her  _ Kansai _ accent. Truth be told, he’s not exactly looking forward to when that day comes. "That sounds great, Aiko. Does this mean you want to go again next week?"

The way his daughter's grin grows wide with glee should be registered as a national weapon, in his humble opinion.

"Mm!"

* * *

"How were the kids?"

Atsumu grins, adjusting the tie on the back of his apron as he makes his way over to the counter. The place is bustling even at three in the afternoon, attesting to both the popularity of the owner and the unwavering standards of the delicious food, even after all these years. Osamu had gone on to open a number of Onigiri Miya branches in Osaka, Tokyo and Yokohama, dabbling in other rice-specialty cuisines as well, but he’d officially started manning the main Tokyo branch three years ago, and Atsumu had been there to help him with the transition.

“Full o’ energy, as usual,” he answers, taking the spot beside his brother. He reaches over to fill a bowl with water, before looking at the numerous order lists stacked on the counter. “Oh, there was a new girl though,” he remembers, thinking of bouncy, unruly hair in a ponytail, a gap-toothed grin and a Vabo-chan charm. “Cute lil’ thing, speaks like us.”

Osamu hums curiously, shaping the onigiri with deft, practiced hands. “Oh yeah? Did she just move here or somethin’?”

“Maybe,” Atsumu concedes, carefully scooping some  _ umeboshi _ out into the rice ball he’s making. “I only noticed her ‘cause she was carryin’ around a hand sanitizer and offered some ta me when she saw me lookin’.”

And it had vividly reminded him of his twenties with a certain curly-haired teammate—even though they hadn’t really kept in touch in recent years ever since their retirement, Atsumu catches himself wondering what Sakusa Kiyoomi was up to these days. Last he’d heard, the guy had moved to another city, but he’d barely kept up with his social media while being an active pro athlete, and practically disappeared from the face of the planet after he announced that he had a kid, just one year into retirement.

He’s brought out from his musings by a towel to the face, spluttering. “The hell, Samu!”

“Stop dreamin’ and get yer ass ta work, or I’m kickin’ ya out of this place for the third time this month.”

“I  _ am _ workin’, asshole, and it’d be the  _ fourth _ time—”

* * *

The second time Kiyoomi sends Aiko to her weekend volleyball club, they’ve already begun to find a groove in the new life they’d found here in Tokyo. Aiko no longer pouts about the lack of volleyball in  _ taiku _ (she’s starting to learn how hateful math is, though) and Kiyoomi manages to schedule his PT appointments in a way that allows him to both send and pick Aiko up on time now.

(The panic still doesn’t disappear, somehow. Kiyoomi wonders if it ever will.)

When he arrives at the sports centre, ten minutes before Aiko's supposed to be done, he slips into the court area and stays close to the wall, watching what looks like a match but is more likely a chance for the kids to expend the last of their energy before they're released back to their parents and guardians.

He catches sight of Aiko quickly enough; she's taller than some of her peers, her height obviously another thing she inherited from Kiyoomi, but she blends in well, only her wavy brown hair making her stand out a little more. It takes Kiyoomi a couple of minutes to realise Aiko's playing as a middle blocker, and he grins at how she stretches her arms out straight up with her wrists and fingers bending down, just like Kiyoomi had taught her.

But the ball travels back over the other side of the lowered net, and a boy jumps up, palm swinging down to strike—

Only to have his efforts thwarted when little Aiko takes a few steps to the right, bending down with both arms ready to receive, digging the ball back up for her teammate to slam it back over the net once more.

Kiyoomi’s so focused on how great of a job his daughter is doing on the court that when he hears a loud, vaguely familiar whoop, he nearly gets whiplash as he turns around to find that voice.

_ “Nice receive! Nice kill!” _

He’s heard those words thousands of times during a period of his life, and the wash of nostalgia is still expected, but it nearly knocks him over when he finally connects the voice to the figure standing to the side of the court, excitedly clapping, bright grin visible from a distance.

Former MSBY Black Jackals and JNT’s setter, Olympian medalist and someone Kiyoomi has not thought of in a very long time.

The commotion apparently signals the end of the game, and Kiyoomi is rooted to the spot as he watches Miya Atsumu trot over to the children, gathering them in a loose circle as he speaks, gesturing with a volleyball in his hands. Then he leads them all in an applause, getting them to line up and then squats down at the very front, holding his hands out as they take turns giving him a high five.

Aiko is last, and when she stands in front of Atsumu, the man lowers his hands, holding out his palms.

Kiyoomi’s heart does a funny thing when his daughter takes out a hand sanitizer from her pocket, squeezing out a few drops into Atsumu’s hands and then her own, both of them rubbing it into their fingers for the requisite thirty seconds, before high fiving each other with a loud,  _ “Ossu!” _

He’s roused out of his thoughts when Aiko turns around, immediately catching sight of him and screaming, “Papa!” as she gestures at him to come over; Kiyoomi ponders how long would she continue to call out his name like that unabashedly before she gets too old and embarrassed to do it, and silently prays the day never comes.

As he walks over towards them, he doesn’t miss the way Atsumu’s eyes immediately widen with recognition, and something he’d buried deep inside his chest stirs at that shocked, unrelenting gaze. His feet carry him over despite the sudden hesitation he finds in his steps, until he’s standing before his present and past, both of them smiling at him.

Aiko closes the distance first, tugging his hand to pull him closer to them. “Papa, this is Coach Atsu-san,” she introduces them, “Coach, this is my Papa!”

Atsumu’s eyes flicker up to meet his. “Well, turns out I actually know yer Papa, Aiko-chan,” he says with a grin, and Aiko gasps, “Really?!”

“Miya,” Kiyoomi tries out the name, finding it odd in his mouth after over a decade of not uttering it, “Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

Atsumu must feel the same, because he wrinkles his nose—still expressive as always. “Five years o’ playin’ together and ya revert back to Miya as soon as we stopped being teammates? Even Aiko-chan knows better than to call me that!”

His righteous indignation, played up for the sake of his daughter’s entertainment, startles a bark of laughter out of him.

Aiko’s fingers twitch in his hold. “Wha’s funny, Papa?”

Kiyoomi squeezes her hand back and explains, “Coach Atsu-san made a joke.” He almost bursts out laughing again when she frowns up at both of them and says very seriously, “I don’t get it.”

“It wasn’t a very good one,” Atsumu concedes, and Aiko sighs, shaking her head like she’s the grown-up between the three of them, which makes Atsumu laugh this time, as he wheedles out a, “Oh my god, ya really inherited yer Pa’s disappointed face, but ya make it look so cute instead!” Only to be told by Aiko that, “‘S not, Papa always looks scared when I do it!”

Kiyoomi takes the chance to observe Atsumu, despite the attacks towards his dignity; the former-setter-turned-neighbourhood-coach no longer has the pale blonde hair from his twenties, and there are small lines at the edges of his dark brown eyes whenever he smiles, but overall, Atsumu still looks healthy and fit like he was nearly twenty years ago on the global sports stage, bright lights shining down on a pale head, proudly standing beside Kiyoomi.

He feels his heart do that weird flip from earlier, and swallows.

“Aiko, we shouldn’t keep Coach Atsu-san any longer,” he says, and Aiko nods.

“Kay, I need ta get my backpack. Wait here, Papa!”

Kiyoomi lets go of her hand and nods, immediately calling out, “No running, Aiko!” sighing when she slows down her pace, trying to walk as fast as possible instead.

He’s still looking at her when Atsumu clears his throat and says, “Heard ya had a kid pretty soon after we retired. That her, then?”

And Kiyoomi is positively aware that he’s smiling like a loon when he nods, but he’s never really known a love like the one he holds for Aiko, and it only took him a few minutes to accept that he was going to be terribly whipped for her from day one. “Yes. Thank you for taking care of her,” he replies, turning back to look at Atsumu.

The other man’s cheeks are tinged pink as he shakes his head, mumbling, “Nah, ‘s my job anyway, and she’s pretty cool, catches things on real quick. But o’ course I shoulda known any kid o’ yers would be that good already at her age.”

Kiyoomi grins proudly. “She took to it faster than I did as a child, actually,” he corrects, “And it was her mother that got her into it, first. I was more worried about the possibility of injuries.”

Atsumu blinks, and an odd expression flashes across his face, too fast for Kiyoomi to decipher. “Oh? Where’s the missus, then?”

“Back in Kyoto,” he replies, “And it’s not—I’m supposed to be bringing Aiko there this afternoon, actually, it’s her mother’s turn this weekend.”

“Her turn to…?”

“To look after Aiko.” Atsumu’s earlier words register, and then Kiyoomi’s eyes widen, something resembling embarrassment sticking to his tongue, but he manages to push out, “We, ah. Aiko wasn’t planned,” he begins, and he  _ hates _ that he still winces, knows all too well that Aiko was no accident in his life, but he continues on rapidly explaining, “Her mother and I never intended to get married, either. But we’ve learned to divide our parenting duties equally, it’s just that things happened and I had to move to Tokyo, and we felt it was best Aiko went with me since she has my last name.”

Ah, shit. He’d started over-correcting again.

“Damn it,” he whispers, grimacing. “I—sorry, you didn’t have to know any of that.”

But Atsumu smiles placatingly at him, soft and filled with none of the pity he’d expected. “Nah, it wasn’t even my place ta ask anyway,” he answers calmly. “Explains her accent though, reminds me o’ home.”

Kiyoomi is saved from having to find anything to dig himself out from the hole he’d just dug himself by Aiko’s appearance, clutching her backpack as she stands in front of him. “Aiko’s ready now! Hand please, Papa.”

He automatically holds his hand out for her to take, and bows to Atsumu slightly after a moment’s deliberation, Aiko following suit. “It was nice to see you again, Atsumu.”

It’s been so long since he’s managed to see how well Atsumu wears being flustered, and he hides his smile behind a blank expression when Atsumu returns the bow, a little stilted but still terribly sincere. “I—ah, you too, Omi-kun. Have a good trip! And uh, I’ll see ya two next week?”

Kiyoomi glances down at Aiko, who has her Vabo-chan charm in her other hand, her gaze following the people still playing volleyball in the fitness centre.

“Yeah,” he says, letting himself smile at last. “See you then. Let’s go, Aiko.”

Aiko looks away from the court and waves at Atsumu with Vabo-chan. “Bye bye, Coach!”

“Bye, Aiko-chan, Omi-kun!”

The walk to the car is quieter than usual, and Kiyoomi is glaringly aware of the fact that Aiko’s eyes don’t leave his face even once. She’s still staring at him when Kiyoomi straps her to the backseat and fixes her ponytail, and he does his best to not freak out when he simply asks, “What’s wrong, Aiko?”

She hums at him, and reaches out to pat his cheek lightly.

“Yer so happy, Papa!” she announces, beaming at him like she’d found the answer to her own question. “All… Sunny!”

Kiyoomi doesn’t dare to examine what she means, squatting down outside of the car, her slightly clammy hand still against his face. “Is it okay that Papa’s happy?” he asks again.

“Mm!” Aiko takes her hand away, nodding enthusiastically and nearly undoing Kiyoomi’s work to her hair. “Papa should be happy always!” she declares, and it makes him laugh at last, thinking about how lucky he is to be here, to have her as family, to see a familiar face and remembering so many good times that were had then.

Well.

Perhaps being happy today would be a good start, at least.

**Author's Note:**

> taiku - physical exercise lessons. this is what came up when I googled if elementary schools in Japan had PE classes but if I'm wrong please let me know and I'll correct it!
> 
> I MAY expand on this one because I have many feelings about single dad sakusa and his daughter and how much he's had to change his world views after having to learn to be a father to this sweet baby girl
> 
> but for now this is all I have, I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
